


just wanna be yours

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Marking, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost funny, how they've kissed but they've never <i>really</i> kissed. It's almost funny, except for how badly Kentarou <i>wants</i> to really kiss Yahaba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just wanna be yours

  
_“I don’t want you to love me, I won’t ask impossible things._  
_I’ll be your friend and your companion.”_  
—Daphne du Maurier

* * *

 

“ _Christ,_ Yahaba-kun—did you go out with a fuckin' vampire last night?” Takumi's laughter is loud, only a foot from Kentarou's ear, and it makes him whip his head around to see _what_ he's talking about. Yahaba's face is burning, and when Kentarou notices what Takumi is pointing (prodding) at, he finds his own ears burning too without his permission.

It's not a single bruise bitten and sucked into the side of Yahaba's throat. There's a series of them, little marks imprinted in disordered rows, varying between red, and black, and purple at the worst of them. Yahaba bats Takumi's hand away with a glare, covering the marks and narrowing his eyes even though the flush on his face _ruins_ any attempt at looking intimidating. Practice is just starting to wind down, and Kentarou takes the chance to hide his own red face by lifting the bottom of his jersey to wipe sweat away.

He feels, rather than sees, the little glare Yahaba shoots at him. It's not _his_ fault that Yahaba responded to every bite on his neck by squirming around against the bed and whining out _his name_ over and over. Still, Kentarou knows he's lucky that the scratches lining the back of his shoulders are much easier to hide, because he certainly doesn't want to answer the questions about his sex life that Yahaba's getting bombarded with.

Not that there's much to say about it, other than sleeping with Yahaba more often than he probably should.

(Twice a week, on the low end of things. 'More often than he should' has been true since the _first_ time they fell into bed together.)

It's almost funny, how they've kissed but they've never _really_ kissed. It's almost funny, except for how badly Kentarou _wants_ to really kiss Yahaba.

“C'mon,” Takumi laughs, slapping Yahaba on the back of the shoulder with his head shaking side to side. “Don't be stingy when you _obviously_ had a good time.”

Kentarou drops his shirt with a little huff of laughter and a roll of his eyes. He turns to leave, before he gives into the temptation to admit that those are _his_ marks on Yahaba's skin. He wants them to truly, actually mean that Yahaba is his.

It should be enough, the way that things are between them now. They're good friends—Kentarou probably wouldn't hesitate _too_ much to say that Yahaba Shigeru is his best friend (as long as Yahaba himself wouldn't hear it), and sometimes they're good friends who have sex with each other.

It should be enough, but Kentarou still finds himself wanting _more_.

Yahaba slowly, reluctantly drops his hand from covering his neck even though his face is still bright red, and Kentarou hesitates, wondering if he should wait. Yahaba's eyes dart to the side to catch him hovering on the fringes, something that Kentarou is used to. He's still adjusting to the atmosphere of this team, and it takes him much longer to make friends with people than Yahaba. He's fairly sure if he were the one with hickeys dotted over his neck, no one would dare comment on it. Yahaba waves his wrist with a little grin at the very corners of his mouth, his eyes sliding away from Kentarou again. “I'm _obviously_ too much of a gentleman to share something like that with you, Takumi-kun.”

Takumi laughs, not sounding the least bit disappointed by Yahaba shutting his questions down, and Kentarou starts walking again before Yahaba's actually next to him, making him jog a few steps to catch up.

“Hey,” he huffs, sounding just on the edge of annoyed. He's serious when Kentarou looks over at him though, brushing his bangs from his face and nudging their shoulders together. “Come get food with me, we gotta talk about something.”

 

 

 

–

Kyoutani is looking at him like he's expecting a scolding. And well, okay, he sort of deserves one. And he's sort of going to get one. But he could at least eat his ramen and look less like a kicked puppy. Shigeru hasn't even said anything yet.

He starts eating first, hoping that Kyoutani will follow his example. He doesn't, he just sits in his seat and twitches slightly, squeezing his spoon until his knuckles go white. Shigeru sighs, setting his chopsticks down on his plate and rolling his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Kyoutani snaps, more sullen than heated. Shigeru frowns at him, then just decides to get the conversation over with despite the way it feels like there's a serpent coiling around his stomach.

“Okay, this,” he taps his fingers on the side of his neck, where he can feel the dull throb of bruises imprinted in his skin. He sort of wishes he _didn't_ like them so much. “A little much.”

Kyoutani, surprisingly, grunts out a little laugh at that. He ducks his head slightly when he does, perpetually embarrassed by his own laughter, pink tinting the tips of his ears.

Shigeru is constantly mourning the fact that people don't give Kyoutani enough reasons to smile. He's cute when he does—sweet, almost, or something close. It's there now, slight, tilting the corners of his lips up and showing just a hint of his teeth. “Sorry.”

He doesn't sound like he means it, but Shigeru didn't really expect him to. He certainly wasn't complaining about it at the time either. Kyoutani _does_ eat now, apparently feeling slightly eased. Shigeru takes a soft breath, because the _actual_ conversation he wants to have isn't quite so fun.

“So,” he's not sure why he's so scared to have this conversation, why it already makes his tongue sit awkwardly in his mouth. It _shouldn't_ be, because they're friends and it's not like they've been doing anything they thought was anything _but_ casual…

Shigeru pulls himself out of _that_ train of thought before he can mope over it. “I got asked out on a date.”

Kyoutani sputters, almost spitting broth out of his mouth as he chokes on his own surprise, and Shigeru resists the urge to sigh. Yup. Awkward.

“By _who_?” He demands once he's caught his breath again, and Shigeru wishes he didn't make it sound like it was incredible and strange for him to get asked out. He bristles in response.

“He's in my accounting class. Not everyone has your total lack of charm, _dick_ ,” he snaps, sitting up a little straighter. Kyoutani isn't smiling at him anymore, not that Shigeru really expects him to be. They're a centimeter away from starting an all out yelling match in their favorite restaurant. Again.

Shigeru shovels rice into his mouth in an effort to fill the cooling silence. They've gotten better at this since high school, at least. Learning to back away from a fight to retreat first.

After a moment that stretches taught and silent, Kyoutani sighs and shakes his head like he's clearing a shroud away from it. “Okay. So you got asked out on a date.”

Shigeru nods, glad for the leading in his tone. “Is that…”

He trails off for a moment, thinking. 'Okay' isn't the word he wants—it seems like the wrong thing to ask of Kyoutani. He doesn't need _permission_ , but he wants _something_. Kyoutani waits for a moment, but when Shigeru fails to come up with what he wants, simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, have fun then,” he sounds _sincere_ about it, and for some reason Shigeru is _disappointed_ to hear that. He's reluctant to admit that some part of him wanted Kyoutani to say 'no', to tell him not to go on a date with someone else.

“I haven't said yes,” he grumbles, softly, and for a moment Kyoutani looks surprised. Shigeru feels _more_ stupid. He should know better than holding out for something that's not going to happen.

Kyoutani, now that Shigeru knows what to look for, tends to wear his heart on his sleeve. If he were looking for something else, something _more_ than friendship and good sex, it would be hard _not_ to notice.

 

 

 

–

Kentarou, phone pressed to his ear, lounging on his bed, is absolutely _not_ calling Yahaba to check up on his stupid date. He's not worried about all that—there's no way a guy in an accounting program is _that_ interesting.

Even if it _did_ go well, he's not worried about it.

No, he's calling because there's an aimless, empty space in the center of his chest. He's lonely—he's been lonely enough in the past to recognize it, but he's not used to being lonely because there's someone specific he wants.

It's stupid. He's not supposed to miss Yahaba ever, but especially not after _just_ having seen him that morning for practice. He's not supposed to almost sigh in _relief_ when Yahaba picks up the phone, grunting softly into the receiver. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yahaba shoots back, and he sounds more drained than Kentarou expects like he's just finishing off a yawn when he picks up the phone.

“You're at home, right?” He hates this. He's not subtle, by nature. He doesn't know how to make his conversations, his questions to Yahaba _hints_. But he's also too embarrassed to try and just blatantly text him about having sex. There's a pause, where Yahaba measures what he's saying against what he _wants_.

Then Yahaba groans out a laugh at him and something in the pit of Kentarou's stomach clenches with an emotion that he can't quite name. He's not even sure if _that's_ what he's looking for, if he just wants to lounge on the bed with Yahaba in his arms and watch the shitty movies that he likes. The thought only makes his chest ache more, like a heavy weight crushing down on an empty space. Like somehow he won't be able to stand the pressure of it.

“I've got an exam for literature in the morning,” he sounds like _death_ would be preferable, which, knowing Yahaba's history with literature, Kentarou is sure is the truth.

Another pause, a shuffling of sound, and Kentarou can picture him doing that frustrated eye-rubbing that he does when he's tired and he fights the urge to smile a little. “Rain check?”

“Mm, sure,” he grunts, because it's not _sex_ he's desperate for, and he's _certainly_ not going to beg Yahaba to let him come over and just watch him study. Even if it's absurd how badly he wants to. Yahaba makes a relieved sound that's probably meant to be an actual good-bye before hanging up the phone.

He didn't mention the date, and Kentarou is sure as _hell_ not about to ask.

 

 

 

–

“N- nice kill, Kyoutani-kun!” Suzaku, the team's second-year libero is still laughably nervous with his praise, rubbing the back of his neck and almost _yelping_ when Kyoutani turns around with a blank expression on his face. Shigeru knows better, knows Kyoutani better, he can see the pink around his ears and the shake of excitement that goes all the way down to his fingertips.

He's just not good at letting everyone _else_ see that. Shigeru rolls his eyes, punching Kyoutani on the shoulder. “Say thank you, at least.”

People on the team tend to look at him like they're scared Kyoutani is going to snap and _eat_ him one day. He glares at Shigeru for a quick second before inclining his head and grumbling out a tiny 'ossu'. Shigeru decides it's close enough, and a pleased smile curves on Suzaku's face.

After the next spike that Kyoutani slams down, the libero holds both his hands up in the air, only cringing slightly when Kyoutani's palms slap against his. Shigeru has to muffle a smile at that—he's all too familiar with the power that Kyoutani puts into everything he does. He pours his whole heart out without discrimination, without hesitation. He glances at Shigeru, tilting his chin up slightly. “Set it higher this time.”

By the time practice is finished, they've won the match against the third-years and Kyoutani's shoulders a re slumping like his arms are going to fall off. Shigeru snorts, finding himself reaching with the intent of trying to rub a little of the tension out of them. He catches himself in the act—something he's done dozens of times—hesitating.

There's something _different_ about it now. It's not just the plain intention to make him feel a little better; he wants the way Kyoutani _melts_ into the familiar touch, the soft grunts—almost laughs or pleased sounds but not _quite_ , the feeling of his muscles unwinding—

Shigeru swallows and drops his hands limp by his sides. If Kyoutani notices the gesture missing, he says nothing about it. He hangs a towel over the back of his neck and stalks off to shower without another glance back.

It's strangely hard to keep his eyes from wandering while they both shower. Strange because he's both _used_ to Kyoutani being naked around him, and even more used to ignoring it entirely. But… his eyes keep finding themselves drawn to the cascade of water that falls down Kyoutani's back, the quick, aggressive way that he scrubs his hands through his hair, eyes shut softly.

He's given up wearing the ridiculous eyeliner he used to love. Shigeru isn't sure if he likes it better that way or not. It felt like a fixture, like the two black stripes that Kyoutani still shaves into his hair, like something that _shouldn't_ change. Typical of Kyoutani, he's finished with his shower far before Shigeru is, wrapping a towel around his waist and robbing Shigeru of the sight of water still clinging to his back, running down it in slow drips…

Shigeru stays under the hot water until his face stops burning.

Kyoutani is changed when he comes back out, with his hair dripping water into the collar of his shirt. Shigeru rolls his eyes, snorting and gathering the discarded towel in his hands, stretching it between his palms and approaching Kyoutani with a drawn out sigh. “You're going to get sick if you don't dry your hair.”

He looks up with a little huff, glaring at Shigeru's approach. “No, I'm not. It dries fine on its own.”

And again, Shigeru reaches to do something normal—to scrub the towel furiously through Kyoutani's hair until it's dry and Kyoutani himself is trying not to laugh, trying not to admit that he _likes_ Shigeru doing it for him. He has his head bent forward slightly, waiting.

Snorting a breath through his nose, he drops the towel in Kyoutani's lap and turns back to tossing things into his bag instead. It feels less like crossing a line that way.

 

 

 

–

They don't always have sex. They don't even do it more often than not. Really, the norm for them is like this:

Yahaba goes on a date. He's been going on a lot of them lately, and Kentarou rarely finds it in himself to ask about them, about the men he's seeing. It's not his business, and he doesn't really want to know.

Instead, Yahaba goes on a date and at ten o'clock he's knocking on Kentarou's door with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a list of bad movies he already wants to watch that they haven't had time for in a few weeks. Kentarou lets him in and they end up in a heap of not-quite-touching limbs on the bed.

The movie, something about a _tire_ that can blow things up with it's _mind_ (how?) is probably the worst thing that Kentarou has _ever_ been subjected to watching. Yahaba is _riveted_ of course and every time the weird cop starts giving speeches about there not being a reason behind things, Kentarou finds himself chuckling.

Yahaba kicks him in the thigh for it. “It's not _funny_.”

It's hilarious. There's a red tint to Yahaba's face that's hard to see in the blue light cast by the screen in the dark room, but it's certainly there. He darts another glance away from the screen the next time Kentarou laughs at something that happens, his eyebrows pinched slightly together.

He doesn't really _get_ the look, so mostly he ignores it. Yahaba is being weird, it's something he's mostly used to. He probably wants to start blabbering about the secret metaphor behind the tire killing things at random.

Still, apparently his fascination with the movie isn't enough to keep him from yawning, from slowly leaning his weight against Kentarou's side, letting his head loll against the swell of Kentarou's shoulder. He's probably not _all_ the way asleep, but he's drifted enough that he probably doesn't notice the way Kentarou tenses slightly. Yahaba's face is relaxed, the corners of his mouth soft, his legs stretched out over the unoccupied space of Kentarou's bed.

Hesitant and slow, Kentarou wraps an arm around him. His fingers come to rest on Yahaba's side, just below his ribs, close enough to his stomach that he can feel the way it swells and deflates with each slow breath. He leaves the movie playing, leaning back until his own head is on the pillows, Yahaba's face rolling toward his chest. Yahaba only shifts closer, one of his hands curling into a loose fist on the center of Kentarou's chest.

That's how he falls asleep as well—relishing every relaxed breath, wishing he could prolong the exact moment, preserve it somehow, make it something he can repeat over and over.

Him and Yahaba and a shitty movie—it sucks that everything he wants seems so _simple_ and remains so far out of reach.

 

 

 

–

Kyoutani, panting underneath him and gripping at the back of Shigeru's shoulders, has a desperate haze in his eyes that makes Shigeru's stomach coil tighter with heat.

He's naked, they both are at this point, and when two of Shigeru's fingers slide slightly deeper, curling at the angle that makes his back snap into an arch with a gasp that trembles its way out of his mouth. His nails dig slightly deeper into Shigeru's shoulders, raking down his back toward his hips.

“F- fuck, would you just—” his voice is a growl, rumbling frustrated from the back of his throat, and Shigeru grins, spreading his fingers apart slightly further for the way it makes Kyoutani's breath hitch. There's probably going to be red welts criss-crossing his shoulders for _days_ after this. In the past, he wouldn't have minded them, really.

Except he's sort of trying to stray from letting _everyone_ know so obviously about his sex life, so he reluctantly uses his free hand to pry Kyoutani's hands off of him, gathering both his wrists in one hand and pressing them into the sheets. It would be easy to break free if Kyoutani was actually fighting him, but he goes along easily, loose-limbed and more focused on shoving at the back of Shigeru's thigh with his heel. “M'good, c'mon. You always take too long.”

He huffs a soft laugh when he says it, and Shigeru rolls his eyes before slowly drawing his fingers out, lips tilting into half a grin when Kyoutani makes a little displeased sound that he can't quite choke back at the loss. He has to let go of his loose grip on Kyoutani's wrists to roll a condom over himself instead, wiping his slick fingers off on the already messed sheets of his bed. They'll be much worse by the time the two of them are finished, and he can't find it in himself to really care.

Kyoutani's rim stretches, gives to the slow pressure of Shigeru sliding inside, teeth digging into his lower lip. He's just on the edge of not open enough, which seems to be preference as much as it is impatience with Kyoutani. His eyes are squeezed shut, nails scrambling for purchase in the sheets and succeeding only in dragging uselessly against the fabric. There’s always an assault upon siding inside of Kyoutani all the way of _hot_ and _tight_ that makes Shigeru drop his head to the middle of Kyoutani’s chest with a groan that rattles straight out of his lungs. He forces himself still once his hips meet with Kyoutani’s, feeling his breathing even out slowly as he adjusts. Shigeru scratches his nails gently at Kyoutani’s side--not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make another small groan push past his lips.

“Y- you good?” His voice sounds strained even to his own ears, and he chokes on his next breath when Kyoutani’s legs lift off the bed, knees tight on either side of his hips, urging Shigeru to grind deeper inside him.

“Yeah, _fuck_ , yeah. Just...“ Kyoutani’s voice gives when Shigeru pulls his hips back slowly, adjusting to grip one of his legs, tucking his elbow under Kyoutani’s knee to keep it lifted in the air, pushing back inside again and making Kyoutani _whine_.

He thrusts into Kyoutani just like that, holding onto his leg to force them to stay open, grinning just slightly at the red splashed over Kyoutani’s face from the exposure of it. He just barely has the leverage to grind his hips back against Shigeru’s. When Shigeru lifts his leg higher, holding it over his shoulder to make it easy to thrust the head of his cock against Kyoutani’s prostate, one of his hands unclenches from the sheets to cover his mouth, hiccuping little sounds out against his palm with each thrust.

Shigeru’s been pretty sure for awhile that Kyoutani doesn’t bottom for many people. He doesn’t actually know how many people Kyoutani’s slept with to begin with, he’d mention going out on occasion before the two of them started fooling around, and Shigeru’s seen him with more than one unfamiliar hickey in the past, but it’s never felt like his business enough to _ask_.

It feels even less like his business now.

Kyoutani’s hips jerk upward, and since he can’t try to kiss Kyoutani without bending him in half, Shigeru turns his head and kisses the inside of his knee softly, wrapping his hand around Kyoutani’s cock and stroking slowly, teasing. He rolls his thumb through the slick gathered at the head, spreading it and making his hand slide easier, shivering at the mess Kyoutani has already made on his stomach. He arches harder into the touch, going from simply covering his mouth to draping his arm over his whole face, probably biting down to keep himself quiet.

Despite the fact that it feels like _dying_ , Shigeru stops at that. The sound Kyoutani makes is too loud to even be hidden by his arm, _desperate_ , and he shifts enough that he can glare at Shigeru. He releases Kyoutani’s cock only to tug at his arm, shaking his head. “I wanna watch you come, Kentarou. Wanna see you feel good.”

Seeming reluctant still, Kyoutani drops his arm with a frustrated sound that trails off into a gasp when Shigeru thrusts into him again, picking his pace up. He returns to stroking his cock as well, watching his eyes flutter, his mouth hanging slightly open around a groan that falters out of his lungs. “ _Shit._ ”

“That’s it,” Shigeru purrs, digging his nails into the side of Kyoutani’s leg, nodding his head even as he feels his own pace faltering, heat swelling in his stomach at a rate he can’t stop, threatening to tip him too early over the edge. Kyoutani's hips jerk upwards twice, his muscles contracting around Shigeru and knocking the air out of his lungs. He paints the tanned skin of his stomach with thick ropes of cum, and Shigeru leans his head against Kyoutani's thigh, tumbling over the edge right after him with such force that it feels like he's going to be knocked out of his own body. He keeps his hips snapping forward, thrusting through both of their orgasms before sliding out and gently laying Kyoutani's hips on the bed and collapsing into a heap next to him.

He knows the both of them need to clean up, but for the moment he's _tired_ and he wants nothing more than to be able to roll over and kiss Kyoutani.

Shigeru doesn't, of course, and because _cuddling_ has never been part of their arrangement, Kyoutani rolls off the other side of the bed with a short groan, stretching his shoulders out, his back turned toward Shigeru.

For once, not knowing what to say, Shigeru is the one who says nothing at all.

 

 

 

–

Kentarou doesn't really mean to be up this late.

He certainly doesn't mean to be up this late because he's chuckling at the text messages that Yahaba is sending him.

Yahaba _probably_ shouldn't be up this late either.

**Asshole**

_> >isn't it past your bedtime, brat?_ (1:10)

_< <_ _i'm not the one with an 8am lecture, dumbass_ (1:10)

**Asshole**

_> >please never say those words to me again_ (1:12)

Kentarou can't help the little grin on his face, the way it's perfectly easy to apply Yahaba's voice to each message in his head. He's not even doing anything else at this point—he's stretched out in bed with the lights off, holding his phone over his head as he taps out a reply.

_< < that's what you get for your shitty schedule_ (1:13)

**Asshole**

_> >don't call me crying the next time you have to dissect a sheep, _mr _. vet school_ (1:12)

Kentarou ends up laughing so hard that he drops his phone on his face, smacking himself in the forehead and blinking in surprise when it slides off to land on the bed next to him. It's only then he realizes what an _idiot_ he's being. He tugs the pillow under his head to cover his face, hoping that he'll have a merciful death through suffocation before he actually has to _admit_ his stupid crush on Yahaba.

Throughout his crisis, his phone keeps vibrating next to his head, ignored in favor of groaning _loudly_ into his pillow. It takes several minutes before he emerges again, fumbling for his phone and this time rolling on his side to read the messages.

**Asshole**

_> >did you fall asleep??_ (1:15)

**Asshole**

_> >ky~ou~tani~_ (1:17)

**Asshole**

_> >well whatever. _i _hope you have nice dreams, even if you're a dick._ (1:22)

Kentarou sets his phone to the side with a sigh, rubbing his palms into his eyes. He's not sure what to do from this point, how to go from _knowing_ he has feelings for Yahaba to _doing_ something about it.

He decides that the problem can wait until morning, at least, pulling the blanket over his head to try and sleep.

 

 

–

Overwhelmingly, dating around has started to become _boring_ for Shigeru. It's a product of being too scared to chase what he really wants, he knows, and he ends up stacking every date against a list of traits that's suspiciously familiar.

Taishi Murata does not stack up high against the _Kyoutani List_ which Shigeru supposes isn't a bad thing, he's tall even compared to Shigeru's height, with long hair that's pulled back from his face and tied into a bun. They decide to go out to an izakaya that Shigeru hasn't been to before, and as soon as they order drinks, Taishi is smirking at him.

“I'm surprised you wanted to go _out_ , Yahaba-kun,” he chuckles slightly and Shigeru isn't sure he really wants to know what that means, but he raises his eyebrows anyway.

“I have the evening free, there's no reason not to, I suppose,” it's probably not the most flattering thing for a date to hear, but he and Taishi only cross paths occasionally to begin with. Taishi laughs, shaking his head.

“I just had heard that you're more of a _staying in_ kind of person,” his voice drops low when he says it, and Shigeru's stomach sinks with it.

It's not hard to form a picture in his mind of what the implication here is.

“Not that it's bad—I don't mind having a few drinks first,” he shrugs, lifting his bottle to his lips and tipping it back. Shigeru frowns, wrapping his fingers around the bottle in front of him, staring at the dark liquid inside it for a moment.

“You realize I'm not going to have sex with you, right?" He tries to make it sound like a joke, light and easy, the way he acts when he's trying to annoy Kyoutani, but Taishi's face falls immediately into a frown, lifting his eyebrows in return.

"What's the point of all this then?" He sounds... Shigeru isn't sure. Frustrated, maybe. It's possible that Taishi isn't someone used to _not_ getting what he's expecting. But, Shigeru shrugs.

"Here I figured it was so you could spend time with me." He's always been grateful for having a face that doesn't give much away, and this is no exception. There's a sting in the center of his chest, something more serious than a little wounded pride, but on the outside, he's simply bored, uninterested with his date being a jerk but not committed to doing much about it.

"It's time with you either way, right? I just figure the other way is a little more fun," he sets the bottle down hard, irritated now. "Or were you not _aware_ you had a reputation."

_That_ does more than sting, especially because lately Shigeru hasn't had the interest to be sleeping around on dates. He drags a finger around the rim of his bottle with a frown. "What _kind_ of reputation?"

Taishi laughs. "The slut kind."

Shigeru wonders if Kyoutani's heard that. He hopes not, he's not sure he wants to know what kind of reaction that Kyoutani would have. They're _friends_ first, of course, and he doesn't want Kyoutani going back to his bad habit of picking fights with people.

But more than that, he's scared that Kyoutani might just _agree_.

"I'm going home," Shigeru huffs, pushing himself out of the booth quickly. Taishi shouts something at his back while he retreats, to loud and dissonant for Shigeru to understand the words. He's not sure he'd want to know what was being said, anyway.

 

 

 

–

Kentarou is not expecting the late knock that he gets on his door.

He's expecting even less to open it to find Yahaba standing there with one of those blank expressions on his face. They make Kentarou uncomfortable; it's obvious that he's trying to hide _something_ but it's rare he says _what_.

The last time he saw Yahaba with a face like this was after their loss to Karasuno in their third-year. It's the same now, with his face so settled into its mask that he doesn't even blink his eyes when Kentarou swings the door open.

"Hey." There's no inflection, just a single syllable spoken without any energy put behind it.

Kentarou isn't a worrier by nature, but this is cause for concern in his book.

He shuffles to the side to let Yahaba in and has to muffle a yelp of surprise when Yahaba kicks the door shut and grabs hold of his shirt, pulling him in before smashing their lips together.

And it's almost funny, how many times they've kissed but they've never _really_ kissed. This time, Kentarou takes his chance at really kissing him, easing the bruising pressure of Yahaba's lips and reaching up to cup the side of his face, tilting them both to a better angle.

He wants it to _mean_ something, he's just not quite sure how to get there.

When the inevitable need for air makes both of them pull back, Yahaba's expression hasn't changed and Kentarou's stomach sinks. He takes a step back, gently easing Yahaba's hands off of his shoulders and raising both eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

Yahaba stares at him for a moment, opening his mouth like he just might say something in response before shaking his head and chasing Kentarou another step back, toward the bed. “Nothing. Kiss me again.”

Kentarou doesn’t actually get a chance to answer that because Yahaba leans forward and kisses him again. This time, his mouth is already open, licking into Kentarou’s and gripping his shoulders so tightly that it borders on _desperate_. It’s hard to focus for a moment, because Yahaba slides one hand up to fist the back of his hair, tugging just slightly in a way that makes Kentarou groan…

It takes more effort than it should for him to remind himself that this isn’t _right_. When he finally manages, he has to lower Yahaba’s hand and shake his head, drawing in a shaky breath. “Quit it.”  
Yahaba’s jaw clenches, and that awful look of _nothing_ is back on his face except this time he laughs. “C’mon, Kyoutani-kun, that’s what this is about, right?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He snaps in return, shrugging Yahaba off of him entirely now.

“Me and you, obviously,” Yahaba doesn’t follow after him this time, instead, he stays where he is and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s about sex, right? That’s the point.”

Kentarou sort of wants to punch Yahaba in his perfect face. He doesn’t, because contrary to popular belief he’s not some kind of barbarian. “And here I thought we were _friends_.”

He’s thought more than that, _hoped_ for more than that; hoped that the two of them were building up to something _more_ if they both stopped being too scared to take the first step. Yahaba has the gall to look surprised by that, and Kentarou’s hands ball into fists.

“You’re not really so stupid that you think I’m just screwing around, are you?” He demands, and this time rather than letting his expression shutter over again, Yahaba’s eyes dart away like he’s not sure how to answer that question.

Yahaba opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. It takes a few tries for him to make sound come out. “That’s—apparently other people have…”

“Have _what_?”

Yahaba forces a smile. “I have a _reputation_. You know, the slut kind.”

Kentarou is certainly going to punch _someone_ in the face tonight. He must spend too long glaring at Yahaba while he considers what he should do about this because Yahaba shakes his head and coughs out another bitter laugh. “Forget it. I’m going home.”

“I like you,” he blurts out before Yahaba can reach the door. Yahaba freezes in place, and Kentarou sucks a deep breath into his lungs. He’s no good at doing things halfway, after all. “I liked you before we started screwing around, I’m pretty sure. And if anyone calls you a slut or anything else again I’m gonna rip them in half.”

Kentarou isn’t usually prone to babbling. This is probably as close as he’ll ever get. Yahaba still hasn’t turned back around to face him, and Kentarou isn’t sure how to end this stupid little speech. He uncurls his fists with a little sigh, shaking his head. “I just wanna make you happy.”

And for a moment that feels far too long, Yahaba doesn’t answer him. Kentarou twitches, feeling peeled back and exposed, chewing this inside of his lip nervously. Yahaba turns around slowly, and it’s a surprise to see that his face is bright red. “Y- you mean that?”

“Obviously,” Kentarou growls, looking down at his hands instead of at Yahaba’s face.

It’s a mistake, only because he doesn’t see Yahaba launch across the room and _tackle_ him onto the bed, the mattress groaning underneath the sudden weight. Yahaba is laughing, and he sounds _happy_ rather than bitter and Kentarou is a little scared to open his eyes.

“You’re so _stupid_ ,” Yahaba’s face is smushed into his shoulder, and one of Kentarou’s arms is trapped between them. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“ _You’re_ the one trying to find a stupid boyfriend,” he growls, hoping from the awkward angle that Yahaba can’t see that he’s blushing like mad. Yahaba laughs.

“I like you too,” his voice is quieter when he says it, and he frees Kentarou’s arm only to curl their fingers together, keeping his face pressed into Kentarou’s shoulder. “For awhile.”

“T- then it’s settled,” Kentarou nods, and turns his head to press a little kiss to Yahaba’s temple.

Yahaba lifts his head up and kisses him. _Really_ kisses him.


End file.
